Chapter 56: Paradise in the Sea of Sorrow

  It was Monday, the beginning of the third week of October. Halloween was around the corner, but the conversations about what to dress up as often fell flat. The holiday’s fascination with death felt different this year after what they had been through just weeks before. Even casual jokes with his friends would falter sometimes, and conversations stalled when they brushed too close to wounds that were still raw around the edges.

  A reminder of those wounds was Oliver’s stuffed clownfish toy, which Ace carried in the side pocket of his backpack whenever he went out. When he was back at the Sanctum, it had a place on his desk.

  But there was something else on Ace’s mind.

  It was his last day of work at the zoo, and with it came his final personal training session with Dante.

  Shiro’s colleague, Tenmei, helped to facilitate the return of Ace’s uniform. Neither had seen Shiro in weeks. His wife said that he was on a solo trip to the countryside to recover from an illness. “I thought it would be nice for him to get some fresh air,” she had told Ace gently when he dropped by. “He wasn’t getting any better staying home.”

  It couldn’t have been that bad, right? Ace had thought at that time.

  Tenmei lingered by the counter after depositing the uniform. “You know,” he said, offering Ace a small, tired smile, “you have worked really hard. The animals trusted you—and so did we.” He paused, sucking on his cherry-favoured lollipop as he thought about his next nicety. “It won’t be the same around here without you. I’m sure Kusakabe-san would think the same, even though he’s not around today…”

  I think he’d chop my legs off and put them on stakes, Ace thought as he forced a bright smile and nodded emphatically.

  After bidding farewell to his colleagues, Ace made his last trip to the gymnasium.

  Ace found Dante seated on the sidelines, stroking Nova with one hand while holding a paperback with the other. Ace approached, beaming.

  “You’re early,” Dante said without looking up from his book.

  “It’s my last lesson, and I thought…” Ace paused. “Felt like it was the right thing to do…”

  Dante snapped the book shut. He nodded, running his tongue along the inside of his cheek. “Right then,” he declared. “There’s indeed some learning to do.”

  Dante’s gaze drifted past Ace’s shoulder for a moment before returning to him. Ace frowned, still watching him quizzically. “First lesson of the day,” Dante said when their eyes met, “is awareness. Don’t get so fixated on one thing that you forget about the bigger picture.”

  A prickle ran down Ace’s neck. He turned and looked up. High above, cloaked in shadows, a figure stood on the narrow gymnasium beams on tiptoes. They lifted a hand—and a katana materialised in their grasp. The blade flared with brilliant light, tearing the shadows away to reveal a bespectacled face contorted with rage.

  “Hello.” Shiro Kusakabe bit down and drawled out every syllable enunciated. “Naughty boy.”

  Ace’s backpack had not even hit the floor when he rolled hard to the side, Shiro’s first strike crashing down where he had stood a heartbeat earlier. Ace yelped, scooting away desperately on his bum. He babbled incoherently as he raised his hands in surrender. Shiro’s knuckles were white around the hilt, the blade trembling ever so slightly. Cold fire burned in his eyes, his jaw clenched tight enough to crack. Dark shadows ringed them, as though sleep had eluded him for days. Ace’s nose wrinkled involuntarily—Shiro reeked of sweat and damp mildew.

  “Crushing and electrocuting me just to run away.” Shiro’s voice became pitchier as he lurched forward. “You’ve got plenty of nerve, eh?”

  “I-I’m sorry!” choked Ace. “Dante should have told you about why I had to do it! Right? Dante!”

  He shot a desperate look toward Dante, silently pleading for him to speak up. Dante merely looked away, as serene as a statue of Buddha. Perched above his eye was his Regalia in its monocle form.

  Ace briefly considered whether chucking a shoe at Dante would count as a valid communication method.

  “He didn’t,” Shiro said. “But he invited me to train you for…”

  The blade dipped slightly as he watched Ace.

  “Today.”

  Ace exploded from his position just as Shiro’s blade descended. It carved through the air with a low, hollow ‘voong’, passing half through the floor. The floor split soundlessly.

  Ace rolled through and came up on one knee. He darted backwards, panic clawing up his throat—and his Visions answered that fear. A scatter of small animals burst into being: rabbits, foxes, jittery shapes darting in every direction. They rushed towards Shiro’s legs in frantic, uneven waves.

  “I’M SORRY! I’M SORRY!” Ace blurted, voice cracking.

  “My colleagues found me unconscious!” Shiro wailed as he swung. His katana flashed. One clean arc. The Visions split into ribbons of light that scattered like prey shredded by teeth. “They said I wet myself!”

  “I didn’t know!” Ace backed up fast, winding his fingers together tightly. Another Vision answered his call—a meek ram, horns glowing as it bumbled straight down the trampoline mats toward Shiro. Shiro ignored it completely. He launched forward, blade slicing through the air as he went straight for Ace. The ram collapsed behind him, undone by the wake of his passing.

  Ace barely had time to gasp before Shiro slammed into him, knocking him onto his back. Instinct flare —a stingray unfurled over his body like a living shield just as Shiro drove the immaterial blade down. The sword pierced into the Vision’s shimmering flesh.

  “Do you have any idea how embarrassing that was!” Shiro’s howls rattled in Ace’s ears. “I still have a fever from it!”

  The stingray’s stinger lashed out, serrating the flesh over Shiro’s chest. Shiro staggered back. Ace seized the chance to twist free and roll out from under him.

  “I’m sorry!” Ace started scrambling for his life once more. “I didn’t mean—”

  “COME HERE! I HAVE PLENTY OF SCORES TO SETTLE WITH YOU!”

  For someone so sickly that his skin was almost grey, Shiro had frightening stamina. Ace hurled Vision after Vision at him, only for the katana to slice through them effortlessly. The fight ended when Ace’s legs finally gave out beneath him, and the tip of Shiro’s blade kissed the tip of his nose. Droplets of sweat pattered onto the mats, and Shiro shuddered. He withdrew his blade, touched his slicked forehead and muttered, “Seems like my fever broke.”

  Then, Shiro rubbed the scratch the stingray had given him. “Geez, that hurts,” he complained in his usual plaintive voice.

  You were trying to kill me! Ace wanted to exclaim, but he asked shyly, “Can I get up now?”

  “Oh yes. Of course!” Shiro extended a dripping hand, which Ace accepted hesitantly. With a grunt, Shiro pulled him up onto his feet.

  “Well done. You put up a jolly good fight.”

  Ace could only laugh nervously.

  “But your teacher!” Shiro brandished his katana at Dante but lowered it when he held up Nova as a shield. “I called you so many times after I saw the news on TV, but you didn’t pick up! Senpai’s calls! Missed!”

  Dante bowed his head. “I was injured,” he said monotonously, fiddling with Nova’s paws like he had done something naughty as well.

  “You could’ve called me afterwards when you recovered!”

  “I forgot.”

  This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

  “You people!” Shiro threw up his hands in exasperation. “Had me worried sick and all!”

  Resigned, Shiro plopped down onto the floor next to Dante, legs outstretched. “Well, Ace, how do you feel after training under us?” he asked as he fanned himself off with his hand. “It’s been a long three-something months. Or was it a bit longer with the whole Yokohama fiasco?”

  Short three-something months, Ace wanted to correct Shiro, but could not bring himself to do so.

  After all, good things had to come to an end.

  “I feel a lot stronger now,” Ace could only muster.

  Shiro nodded approvingly, then nudged Dante’s leg. Dante stared at his senior blankly.

  “What?”

  Shiro’s face turned red. “Don’t you think you should…” He flapped his arms around, gesticulating at Ace. “Reward your student, hm?”

  “Oh.” Dante turned back to Ace, expressionless. “I’ll let you off earlier today. You’re free to do whatever you want.”

  The corner of Ace’s eye twitched. He can’t be that dense, he thought miserably as he fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. “Wait, you said that I could do anything I wanted. Then, could you bring me somewhere?”

  “Where?”

  “A beach,” Ace replied. “Any beach.”

  “Just in time for sunset,” Shiro remarked.

  “Alright, I will go get the car,” Dante said. “You can meet me outside.”

  When Dante left, Ace turned to Shiro. “It’s like I was…”

  “If there’s one thing we know that he’s still horrible at, it’s expressing his true emotions.” Shiro shook his head. “You might want to take the initiative.”

  “I know.” Ace let out a sigh. “Like I usually do…”

  “Well, I guess this is it,” Shiro said, his eyes softening. “It’s goodbye for now. You have been a joy to teach. I’m sure Dante feels that same way as well.”

  Ace gulped. “Thank you for your guidance,” he mumbled, a prickle forming at the base of his nose.

  With a gentle squeeze to his shoulder, Shiro led him out of the gymnasium. Dante was already pulling up to the entrance. “If you have any questions, remember that I’m just a text away.” Shiro smiled warmly. “If you need me, you know where to look.”

  Dante’s car rolled to a slow stop outside the gymnasium. The engine idled, waiting. Shiro pressed down on Ace’s shoulder. “Go on,” he said. “Don’t keep him waiting.”

  They parted just like that. Ace looked back until he could no longer see Shiro’s figure as Dante’s car pulled away, wishing he had said a proper goodbye. Letting out a wistful sigh, he sank weakly against the seat, the leather under his fingers as cold and still as the silence in the vehicle.

  Nova pushed her nose under his palm, demanding pets with squeaky meows. Ace stroked her silky coat, his fingers finding her bright red collar hidden under her thick black fur. Tiny planets circled the fabric, and the gold bell attached to it tinkled softly as he rolled it between his fingers. After a while, Nova wore herself out and curled up beside him for a nap.

  The steady hum of the engine and the passing blur of pedestrians pulled Ace into his own thoughts. He watched the world drift by through the window, mind wandering until the ride slipped past almost unnoticed. Dante's throat-clearing finally pulled him from his thoughts, and he realised the car was no longer moving.

  “We are here.” Dante met Ace’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “You can leave Nova behind. I’ll leave the air-conditioning running for it… for her, I mean. While she sleeps.”

  “Where are we?” Ace asked as he stepped out.

  “Yokohama Bay.”

  Ace reached into the side pocket of his bag and pulled out the clownfish toy. Though it had been washed clean, it still radiated death. He swung his legs out and walked towards the beach, the toy weighing heavily in his palms. When he reached the seaside, he shucked off his boots and rolled up his pants. The waves lapped against his legs as he waded in until he was knee-deep. The metronomic gurgling of the waves could easily have beguiled his senses into a deep haze.

  Ace lowered the clownfish toy into the sun-warmed waters. “Marine Parade. Multiplicity.” A dozen sea creatures manifested around the toy.

  “Go,” he whispered. “Explore as much of the sea as you want.”

  The Visions nudged the toy onward, and Ace watched until it became nothing more than a fading ember against the sea. He knew Dante was next to him, taking in the same sight.

  Ace was reminded of Shiro's echoing words: You might want to take the initiative.

  But the words tangled in his throat. Every time he parted his lips to speak, the knot in his throat would grow tighter.

  The silence between them stretched thin, broken only by the waves lapping at their legs.

  Until Dante broke it.

  ***

  Taking a deep breath, Dante commented, "Now I understand why you've been keeping that toy with you.”

  “There was nothing left,” Ace said quietly. “I used to lie awake thinking about what I could’ve done differently. Every day.”

  His fingers curled into his armour. “I don’t let myself do it every day now,” he admitted, voice barely above the waves. “I don’t want to worry the others.”

  “You can scold me, you know.” Ace hesitated, then forced a small, fragile smile. He put on a mock voice, pretending that someone was chastising him. “You’d accumulate more Cursed Essence! You’d hurt yourself or something…”

  “I’m not going to.”

  Ace met Dante’s eyes, caught off guard by the quiet softness in his tone.

  “There’s no denying that this line of work is horrific,” Dante said. “The danger isn’t just in being killed—or even in killing. The real horror lies in what follows. The weight of it. The depression that clings to death. It’s easy to fall into that spiral and never find your way back out.”

  The iciness of Dante’s eyes had melted, but his gaze did not waver.

  “But pretending you don’t feel anything won’t save you either.”

  Ace furrowed his brows. “I don’t… Is that not how—”

  “Let yourself feel. Run with them. Not away from them, not straight into them,” Dante explained. “You are the oldest in the group, and adulthood and its package of expectations would arrive for you sooner than for everyone else. But becoming an adult does not mean you should start making yourself less like a human. As for holding onto the past…”

  There was a soft splash as Dante stepped in front of Ace, nudging aside a drifting fragment of debris with the side of his foot. The movement drew him closer. In the water, his shadow stretched long, eclipsing Ace’s.

  “You will still do it, won’t you?” Dante asked quietly. “It’s what made you a sorcerer in the first place.”

  Ace said nothing.

  “For every being you meet, an ounce of their despair will be transferred to you. It’s up to you to decide whether that pain will wash over you or around you.” The waves swelled ever so slightly around them. “Because their pain lives in our memories, even if they are gone. No being truly dies in that sense. Oliver Faust will soon become a drop in this ocean, and I cannot tell you what you should do other than to be careful.”

  Ace turned his head, his gaze dropping to where Dante’s warm hand now rested on his shoulder.

  “You’ve grown,” Dante said. “And you’ll keep growing—even from your past. It’s a strange teacher. Fixed. Unchanging. Yet it offers endless insight, if you’re willing to look at it.”

  Dante’s grip tightened, just slightly. “And I’ll be part of your past.”

  Before he could talk himself out of it again, Ace stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Dante.

  The last time at the Poppy Manor, he had only sat there, watching Leonhart rush forward without hesitation to bury Dante in her embrace. He had told himself it did not matter, that he was too old to cling to people.

  And he had regretted it ever since.

  Dante let out a small grunt of surprise, his arms lifting before hovering awkwardly in the air.

  “I want you to keep being my teacher,” Ace murmured, the words muffled against Dante’s chest. His fingers tightened slightly in the fabric, as if afraid to let go too soon. “I don’t care about the contract.”

  He swallowed, voice smaller now. Dante’s chest rose and fell beneath his cheek.

  “Why can’t you just stay?”

  Dante’s chest seemed to falter under the weight of his words then. Ace tightened his grip around Dante’s waist. Waiting with abated breath for his answer. Praying with his eyes closed. Bracing for the answer he feared.

  For a moment, Dante did not move.

  Then Ace felt a single hand settle awkwardly against the back of his head, fingers threading gently through his hair.

  He stilled.

  “I can’t,” Dante said quietly, the words rumbling against Ace’s ear. There was no sharpness in it—only something tired. Perhaps regretful.

  But what if I have new problems that I can’t solve — even with everything you taught me?” Ace clung tighter.

  “You can have my phone number. 9-0-3-3-0-0-2-1.”

  “But what if I have to look for you? Where do I go?”

  “I can’t tell you where I live.”

  “Please,” Ace implored. “Just a hint.”

  Dante’s hand slowed against his hair.

  “I’ll allow it this once. Only one hint.”

  Ace perked up despite himself. “I’m listening.”

  “There’s a vintage dragon playground near where I live.”

  Ace pulled back. “But there’s more than one in Singapore! Which one?”

  “You get one hint.”

  “…Alright.”

  For a while, neither of them said anything more. Ace memorised the number in his head, repeating it silently so he would never forget. The dragon playground. Just one hint. That was all he was granted.

  His hands finally slipped from Dante’s shirt.

  It was not enough—but it would have to be.

  For now.

  A/N: Ace could have asked Felix, but Felix would not have known either. In his euphoria, Felix forgot to record down the address and combined with the fact that he was not familiar with Singapore, Ace would have gotten the same answer: he had seen a dragon’s head near Dante’s residence.

  P.S: Do not call the number. It was made up for this story, but I don't know if it's an actual working number.